invisible cities
by Shiluette
Summary: Let us imagine there is a city atop a mountain and there lived two Kings. Or, mayhap there had never been such a city. Or, there had been many cities akin to this city upon cliffs. Atoryo, Historical AU, Saga.
1. Chapter 1

Avant.

In a place of nowhere a stranger walks.

Imagine a desert. Imagine sand that does not blow because there are no winds to blow them. Now imagine the sun that scorches and burns. Imagine that by night, the chill is penetrating and bones rattle as animals hide in nonexistent layers.

Imagine this stranger walking along this barren path.

/

Two travelers see him. He is about to sit down but they think he is about to die.

"We should bring him to our camp," one says, and the other agrees reluctantly. Their food is short and they will soon run out but they also know that company is hard to come by.

They carry him back and he is unaware that he is about to be saved.

The travelers do not know that he does not want to be saved.

/

The stranger wakes and is brought food and water. He does not eat at first: he fiddles with his hands and looks down. His hands are grubby and long. His hair is untied and streaked of the night sky. Black, they think, but upon closer look it is night-blue, smelling of dust and jasmine.

"You come from foreign lands," the first traveler observes.

The stranger does not speak at first. When he does, his voice is low and sad. When he looks up, they see that one side of his silver spectacles is broken. It hangs like a dejected bird.

"You should not have carried me here," he says. To hear his voice they must strain their ears.

He bows his head again but he begins to eat and drink.

/

He does not have anything.

He shows them an amulet, one that he had been holding in his hand the entire time.

It is a small thing, this token. Glossed with silver and gold, most of the sheen is dull with sand and grit, and the chain is a rusty brown. They will not be able to sell it for a fair price at the next city.

"'Tis the only thing I have in this world," he says.

The second traveler shakes his head. He must have been robbed, decide the travelers. They feel sorry for him but pity will not pay for the water and food they must have.

He sees the distress on their faces and hints at a small smile.

"If I die soon," he says, "You may snap my bones and make soup out of my flesh."

The stranger has a strange sense of humor.

/

It is a cold night, this one. They huddle together and the stranger stares at his amulet. The fire hisses and crackles and the gold sheen bounces off his face.

The travelers watch him.

"What is it for?" they finally venture to ask.

The stranger fingers the indents and engravings. He flicks open a lid and shows them a picture plastered within the frame of the amulet. There is a painting. But.

"It's unfinished," they point out the obvious.

"Yes," the stranger says.

There are two people who are dresses in stately robes and one is colored with rich fabrics of silver and gold while another is barely traced with charcoal. One is solid while the other rests as a shadowy ghost. One is older while both have solemn eyes. The younger has a sharper smile.

"So you come from a kingdom," the first traveler says, once the drawing has been contemplated and seen. The stranger snaps the picture shut and suddenly they cannot remember how the figures looked like.

"A city," the stranger says.

"Tell us of this city." The night is cold and the sun will not rise. They have nothing better to do to wave off their hunger. They huddle closer together.

The stranger quirks his lips. "It is a strange city," he says, "It exists on the top of a mountain."

"There are cities as such."

"It rests with the clouds and forever surrounded in mist. There is no sun or shine but the food is plentiful and the people live, content." The stranger pauses. "No traveler may reach it on foot or by horse, and no one may leave so easily."

"And so?" the travelers prompt when the stranger would not say anymore. "And so, have you left with the utmost difficulty?"

The stranger stares out at the void of the flat horizon. He is thinking, what strange sights, for he has never seen his vision without the ragged cliffs of black mountains that surrounded him. He is feeling tired.

"That city is no more," he says.

/

A/N: A 50-part drabble story/saga. Inspired by Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities with historical revolutions.


	2. Chapter 2

/

1.

/

The city the stranger talks about is named Hsyeoitgeaik. It is a name that no one can recall or understand, so it is merely called the city. There are no cities before or after.

The city hangs with the mists and droops on the highest peaks of the mountain. The mountain ridges are black and are always shrouded with fog and grey clouds.

There once lived a King and a Queen until the Queen died and the King murdered; and later there will be the last Two Kings, but most will often remember them as the King and the Prince.

They will rule. Or, the King will rule and the Prince will watch with his sharp smile.

/

The Prince will appear out of nowhere.

It is a winter's day. Or so the story goes.

There is a chill in the air when the Queen first ventures out and finds a boy crouched on a pile of guards. They are immobile and upon closer look they are found dead.

A boy could not have done that, the Queen decides. The boy is fast asleep and when the Queen touches his arm, it feels solid frozen.

She takes him inside.

But that is how the legend goes. Or, let us put it another way: it is the legend that the Queen told her husband and the King proclaimed and what the peasants believed. The courtiers will titter and bow and murmur _of course, of course, we all like a good scandal_, and snap their folding fans.

Poor young Prince, they say, when the boy is escorted in, with his solemn eyes and devilish smile that is not fitting for youth, poor Prince, he shall now have to fight for his throne.

/

"This will be our son," she tells the King, and calls her other, beloved son. "Keigo."

The boy the Queen calls on is cold (_as ice_, they say_, because in his eyes we are to perish with winter_) and beautiful. He has a fine figure and a graceful walk, with which he comes down the grand hall that is never empty. Titter tatter.

"Mother," he says.

The room is grey in stone that is decked with wisps of webs made from silk string. The hall is alight with candles that drip waxen gold.

Upon this light the child look ablaze on fire. He kneels down and sees the sleeping child.

"This is your brother," she tells him, "He came from the heavens."

The King thins his lips because she does not mention the dead guards (that she claims).

Keigo stares at the child. He is pale and sickly with his black hair and ghastly skin. When he does open his eyes, Keigo understands a dread that he never learnt to shake off.

"Your eyes, child," the Queen says, leaning close, "They are gold."

The child smiles a smile that is not a smile. He says that he will be thus called Ryoma.

(Ryoma: It is the name of a dragon or a warrior. It is also a name that bespeaks of revolutions and traitors and blood.)

(_That is peasant talk_, courtiers say later, _that is peasant talk, tsk. It is the queen who had said the name. Said, his name shall be Ryoma. The child cannot make names; let us not make that boy a legend._ )

It is too late now; legends are what we have left, the stranger adds quietly.

/

The first Prince watches his brother.

"We are nothing alike," he once said to his tutor, his grey eyes imploring, serious. It is how he looks as he debates philosophy and knowledge; it is how a ruler should look, his tutor thinks fondly.

"You are bounded by the same destiny."

Keigo drew himself straight and declares, "I am tied to no destiny." He picked at his warm fur cloak, draped it around his shoulders. He is regal already, at this tender age.

Behind, the newly found prince tottered over to where they are standing. His eyes in fervor, his smile outstretched.

"There's a rabbit dead in the courtyard," he declared, alight and excited.

There Keigo whirled upon his brother, snapping, "Do leave such thoughts inside your little mind, dear brother." The younger one had stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide.

Now, Keigo watches; they are a good distance apart and this child, he had been living in his domain a little over a season.

"Repulsive child," he mutters, and they are far enough so that the wind may dissipate his disdain.


End file.
